Добавил:
ivanov666
Опубликованный материал нарушает ваши авторские права? Сообщите нам.
Вуз:
Предмет:
Файл:The Moonstone
.pdf
THE MOONSTONE
mentioned that you had something to say to me? If it's no
secret,sir,» said Betteredge, suddenly abandoning the crooked
way, andtaking the straight one, «I'm burning to know what's
brought youdown here, if you please, in this sudden way.»
«What brought me here before?» I asked.
«The Moonstone, Mr. Franklin. But what brings you now,
sir?»
«The Moonstone again, Betteredge.»
The old man suddenly stood still, and looked at me in the
greytwilight as if he suspected his own ears of deceiving him.
«If that's a joke, sir,» he said, «I'm afraid I'm getting alittle
dull in my old age. I don't take it.»
«It's no joke,» I answered. «I have come here to take up
theinquiry which was dropped when I left England. I have
come here todo what nobody has done yet – to fi nd out who
took the Diamond.»
«Let the Diamond be, Mr. Franklin! Take my advice, and let
theDiamond be! That cursed Indian jewel has misguided everybody whohas come near it. Don't waste your money and your
temper – in thefi ne spring time of your life, sir – by meddling
with the Moonstone.How can YOU hope to succeed (saving
your presence), when SergeantCuff himself made a mess of it?
Sergeant Cuff!» repeatedBetteredge, shaking his forefi nger at
me sternly. «The greatestpoliceman in England!»
«My mind is made up, my old friend. Even Sergeant Cuff
doesn'tdaunt me. By-the-bye, I may want to speak to him,
sooner or later.Have you heard anything of him lately?»
«The Sergeant won't help you, Mr. Franklin.»
«Why not?»
«There has been an event, sir, in the police-circles, since
youwent away. The great Cuff has retired from business. He
431
WILKIE COLLINS
has got alittle cottage at Dorking; and he's up to his eyes in the
growingof roses. I have it in his own handwriting, Mr. Franklin.
He hasgrown the white moss rose, without budding it on the
dog-rosefi rst. And Mr. Begbie the gardener is to go to Dorking,
and ownthat the Sergeant has beaten him at last.»
«It doesn't much matter,» I said. «I must do without SergeantCuff's help. And I must trust to you, at starting.»
It is likely enough that I spoke rather carelessly.
At any rate, Betteredge seemed to be piqued by something
in thereply which I had just made to him. «You might trust to
worse thanme, Mr. Franklin – I can tell you that,» he said a
littlesharply.
The tone in which he retorted, and a certain disturbance,
afterhe had spoken, which I detected in his manner, suggested
to me thathe was possessed of some information which he hesitated tocommunicate.
«I expect you to help me,» I said, «in picking up the fragmentsof evidence which Sergeant Cuff has left behind him. I
know you cando that. Can you do no more?»
«What more can you expect from me, sir?» asked Betteredge, withan appearance of the utmost humility.
«I expect more – from what you said just now.»
«Mere boasting, Mr. Franklin,» returned the old man
obstinately.»Some people are born boasters, and they never
get over it to theirdying day. I'm one of them.»
There was only one way to take with him. I appealed to
hisinterest in Rachel, and his interest in me.
«Betteredge, would you be glad to hear that Rachel and I
weregood friends again?»
«I have served your family, sir, to mighty little purpose,
ifyou doubt it!»
432
THE MOONSTONE
«Do you remember how Rachel treated me, before I leftEngland?»
«As well as if it was yesterday! My lady herself wrote you
aletter about it; and you were so good as to show the letter to
me.It said that Miss Rachel was mortally offended with you,
for thepart you had taken in trying to recover her jewel. And
neither mylady, nor you, nor anybody else could guess why.
«Quite true, Betteredge! And I come back from my travels,
andfi nd her mortally offended with me still. I knew that the
Diamondwas at the bottom of it, last year, and I know that the
Diamond isat the bottom of it now. I have tried to speak to her,
and shewon't see me. I have tried to write to her, and she won't
answerme. How, in Heaven's name, am I to clear the matter
up? The chanceof searching into the loss of the Moonstone, is
the one chance ofi nquiry that Rachel herself has left me.»
Those words evidently put the case before him, as he had
notseen it yet. He asked a question which satisfi ed me that
I hadshaken him.
«There is no ill-feeling in this, Mr. Franklin, on your
side – isthere?»
«There was some anger,» I answered, «when I left London.
Butthat is all worn out now. I want to make Rachel come to
anunderstanding with me – and I want nothing more.»
«You don't feel any fear, sir – supposing you make anydiscoveries – in regard to what you may fi nd out about MissRachel?»
I understood the jealous belief in his young mistress whichprompted those words.
«I am as certain of her as you are,» I answered. «The fullestdisclosure of her secret will reveal nothing that can alter
herplace in your estimation, or in mine.»
433
WILKIE COLLINS
Betteredge's last-left scruples vanished at that.
«If I am doing wrong to help you, Mr. Franklin,» he
exclaimed,»all I can say is – I am as innocent of seeing it as the
babe unborn!I can put you on the road to discovery, if you can
only go on byyourself. You remember that poor girl of ours –
RosannaSpearman?»
«Of course!»
«You always thought she had some sort of confession in
regard tothis matter of the Moonstone, which she wanted to
make to you?»
«I certainly couldn't account for her strange conduct in
anyother way.»
«You may set that doubt at rest, Mr. Franklin, whenever
youplease.»
It was my turn to come to a standstill now. I tried vainly,
inthe gathering darkness, to see his face. In the surprise of themoment, I asked a little impatiently what he meant.
«Steady, sir!» proceeded Betteredge. «I mean what I say.
RosannaSpearman left a sealed letter behind her – a letter
addressed to YOU.»
«Where is it?»
«In the possession of a friend of hers, at Cobb's Hole. You
musthave heard tell, when you were here last, sir, of Limping
Lucy – alame girl with a crutch.»
«The fi sherman's daughter?»
«The same, Mr. Franklin.»
«Why wasn't the letter forwarded to me?»
«Limping Lucy has a will of her own, sir. She wouldn't give
itinto any hands but yours. And you had left England before I
couldwrite to you.»
«Let's go back, Betteredge, and get it at once!»
434
THE MOONSTONE
«Too late, sir, to-night. They're great savers of candles
alongour coast; and they go to bed early at Cobb's Hole.»
«Nonsense! We might get there in half an hour.»
«You might, sir. And when you did get there, you would
fi nd thedoor locked. He pointed to a light, glimmering below
us; and, atthe same moment, I heard through the stillness of
the evening thebubbling of a stream. 'There's the Farm, Mr.
Franklin! Makeyourself comfortable for to-night, and come to
me to-morrow morningif you'll be so kind?'»
«You will go with me to the fi sherman's cottage?»
«Yes, sir.»
«Early?»
«As early, Mr. Franklin, as you like.»
We descended the path that led to the Farm.
435
CHAPTER III
I have only the most indistinct recollection of what happened atHotherstone's Farm.
I remember a hearty welcome; a prodigious supper, which
wouldhave fed a whole village in the East; a delightfully clean
bedroom,with nothing in it to regret but that detestable product of thefolly of our fore-fathers – a feather-bed; a restless
night, withmuch kindling of matches, and many lightings of
one little candle;and an immense sensation of relief when the
sun rose, and there wasa prospect of getting up.
It had been arranged over-night with Betteredge, that I was
tocall for him, on our way to Cobb's Hole, as early as I liked –
which,interpreted by my impatience to get possession of the
letter, meantas early as I could. Without waiting for breakfast
at the Farm, Itook a crust of bread in my hand, and set forth,
in some doubtwhether I should not surprise the excellent Betteredge in his bed.To my great relief he proved to be quite as
excited about thecoming event as I was. I found him ready, and
waiting for me, withhis stick in his hand.
«How are you this morning, Betteredge?»
«Very poorly, sir.»
«Sorry to hear it. What do you complain of?»
«I complain of a new disease, Mr. Franklin, of my own
inventing.I don't want to alarm you, but you're certain to catch
it beforethe morning is out.»
436
THE MOONSTONE
«The devil I am!»
«Do you feel an uncomfortable heat at the pit of your
stomach,sir? and a nasty thumping at the top of your head?
Ah! not yet? Itwill lay hold of you at Cobb's Hole, Mr. Franklin.
I call it thedetective-fever; and I fi rst caught it in the company
of SergeantCuff.»
«Aye! aye! and the cure in this instance is to open RosannaSpearman's letter, I suppose? Come along, and let's get it.»
Early as it was, we found the fi sherman's wife astir in
herkitchen. On my presentation by Betteredge, good Mrs. Yollandperformed a social ceremony, strictly reserved (as I afterwardslearnt) for strangers of distinction. She put a bottle of
Dutch ginand a couple of clean pipes on the table, and opened
theconversation by saying, «What news from London, sir?»
Before I could fi nd an answer to this immensely comprehensivequestion, an apparition advanced towards me, out of a
dark cornerof the kitchen. A wan, wild, haggard girl, with remarkablybeautiful hair, and with a fi erce keenness in her eyes,
camelimping up on a crutch to the table at which I was sitting,
andlooked at me as if I was an object of mingled interest and
horror,which it quite fascinated her to see.
«Mr. Betteredge,» she said, without taking her eyes off
me,»mention his name again, if you please.»
«This gentleman's name,» answered Betteredge (with a
strongemphasis on GENTLEMAN), «is Mr. Franklin Blake.»
The girl turned her back on me, and suddenly left the
room. GoodMrs. Yolland – as I believe – made some apologies for her daughter'sodd behaviour, and Betteredge (probably) translated them intopolite English. I speak of this in
complete uncertainty. Myattention was absorbed in following
the sound of the girl's crutch.Thump-thump, up the wooden
437
WILKIE COLLINS
stairs; thump-thump across the roomabove our heads; thumpthump down the stairs again – and there stoodthe apparition
at the open door, with a letter in its hand,beckoning me out!
I left more apologies in course of delivery behind me, andfollowed this strange creature – limping on before me, faster
andfaster – down the slope of the beach. She led me behind
some boats,out of sight and hearing of the few people in the
fi shing-village,and then stopped, and faced me for the fi rst
time.
«Stand there,» she said, «I want to look at you.»
There was no mistaking the expression on her face. I inspiredher with the strongest emotions of abhorrence and disgust. Let menot be vain enough to say that no woman had ever
looked at me inthis manner before. I will only venture on the
more modestassertion that no woman had ever let me perceive
it yet. There is alimit to the length of the inspection which a
man can endure, undercertain circumstances. I attempted to
direct Limping Lucy'sattention to some less revolting object
than my face.
«I think you have got a letter to give me,» I began. «Is it
theletter there, in your hand?»
«Say that again,» was the only answer I received.
I repeated the words, like a good child learning its lesson.
«No,» said the girl, speaking to herself, but keeping her
eyesstill mercilessly fi xed on me. «I can't fi nd out what she saw
inhis face. I can't guess what she heard in his voice.» She suddenlylooked away from me, and rested her head wearily on the
top of hercrutch. «Oh, my poor dear!» she said, in the fi rst soft
tones whichhad fallen from her, in my hearing. «Oh, my lost
darling! whatcould you see in this man?» She lifted her head
438
THE MOONSTONE
again fi ercely, andlooked at me once more. «Can you eat and
drink?» she asked.
I did my best to preserve my gravity, and answered, «Yes.»
«Can you sleep?»
«Yes.»
«When you see a poor girl in service, do you feel noremorse?»
«Certainly not. Why should I?»
She abruptly thrust the letter (as the phrase is) into myface.
«Take it!» she exclaimed furiously. «I never set eyes on
youbefore. God Almighty forbid I should ever set eyes on
youagain.»
With those parting words she limped away from me at the
top ofher speed. The one interpretation that I could put on her
conducthas, no doubt, been anticipated by everybody. I could
only supposethat she was mad.
Having reached that inevitable conclusion, I turned to the
moreinteresting object of investigation which was presented
to me byRosanna Spearman's letter. The address was written
as follows: – »ForFranklin Blake, Esq. To be given into his own
hands (and not to betrusted to any one else), by Lucy Yolland.»
I broke the seal. The envelope contained a letter: and this,
inits turn, contained a slip of paper. I read the letter fi rst: –
«Sir, – If you are curious to know the meaning of my behaviour toyou, whilst you were staying in the house of my mistress, LadyVerinder, do what you are told to do in the memorandum enclosedwith this – and do it without any person
being present to overlookyou. Your humble servant,
«ROSANNA SPEARMAN.»
439
WILKIE COLLINS
I turned to the slip of paper next. Here is the literal copy
ofi t, word for word:
«Memorandum: – To go to the Shivering Sand at the turn
of thetide. To walk out on the South Spit, until I get the South
SpitBeacon, and the fl agstaff at the Coast-guard station above
Cobb'sHole in a line together. To lay down on the rocks, a
stick, or anystraight thing to guide my hand, exactly in the
line of the beaconand the fl agstaff. To take care, in doing this,
that one end of thestick shall be at the edge of the rocks, on
the side of them whichoverlooks the quicksand. To feel along
the stick, among thesea-weed (beginning from the end of the
stick which points towardsthe beacon), for the Chain. To run
my hand along the Chain, whenfound, until I come to the part
of it which stretches over the edgeof the rocks, down into the
quicksand. AND THEN TO PULL THECHAIN.»
Just as I had read the last words – underlined in the original – Iheard the voice of Betteredge behind me. The inventor
of thedetective-fever had completely succumbed to that irresistiblemalady. «I can't stand it any longer, Mr. Franklin. What
does herletter say? For mercy's sake, sir, tell us, what does her
lettersay?»
I handed him the letter, and the memorandum. He read
the fi rstwithout appearing to be much interested in it. But the
second – thememorandum – produced a strong impression
on him.
«The Sergeant said it!» cried Betteredge. «From fi rst to
last,sir, the Sergeant said she had got a memorandum of
thehiding-place. And here it is! Lord save us, Mr. Franklin,
here isthe secret that puzzled everybody, from the great Cuff
downwards,ready and waiting, as one may say, to show itself to
YOU! It's theebb now, sir, as anybody may see for themselves.
440
Соседние файлы в предмете [НЕСОРТИРОВАННОЕ]